


Lost in an Uncommon Sea

by MargoGreen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargoGreen/pseuds/MargoGreen
Summary: The knights return to Camelot on the heels of a tragedy
Kudos: 9





	Lost in an Uncommon Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Here is yet another wip, my apologies. I'm like the wildly meh version of da Vinci, can't finish a project to save my life.  
> -The title for this fic is a lyric from the song "Black Sheep" by The People's Thieves. They are a stellar band so if you have time you should check them out.

They could smell the tinge of ash on the air as they drew closer to the courtyard, the fetor riling the horses just as much as it did the weary knights. The acrid stench of burnt hair and melted flesh was the next assault to their senses, informing them of what they would find in the square. Sure enough, a great pyre stood in the middle of the normally barren courtyard, the wood blackened. Ash piled at the base and blew across the cobble as the breeze attempted to spirit away the remains. Tendrils of smoke could still be seen faintly drifting from the smoldering ruins of what had no doubt been a living, breathing human being. Someone had burned here, something that Arthur had sworn would never happen again. Not for sorcery and not for any other act, criminal or otherwise. It was a horrific way to go. If the victim was lucky, they choked on the ashes of their own flesh before the flames could cause too much damage. The unlucky ones burned until the body could no longer sustain life. They burned until the skin bubbled, peeled, cracked, and eventually blackened. “I believe you have a pernicious uncle to attend to princess” said Gwaine. He did nothing to mask the ire in his voice as his eyes fixed firmly onto the charred pile. Arthur grunted in response before dismounting and stalking into the castle. 

Gwaine’s jovial mood had soured the minute the reek of scorched soft tissue hit his nose. He knew this was not Arthur’s fault and that the man had in fact been doing everything in his power to prevent such heinous acts from occurring, but he couldn’t squelch the sharp wave of fury that surged up at the painfully familiar sight. He made a harsh comment that followed the King as he swept into the castle before dismounting himself and heading for his chambers. Once the door was firmly shut, he began to peel off the layers of metal that had encased his body for the past few hours. He was never a fan of the knightly uniform and was even less of one now that he had gained a few pounds and the edges tended to rub and chafe. Despite his near constant joking to the contrary he was not an overly prideful man but requesting new armor due to his increased girth seemed like admitting his enjoyment of the noble life. Something he had sworn never to do. After a fair bit of struggling and a fair bit more cursing Gwaine was clad in trousers and tunic alone. He left his room to search for his friends and ideally something alcoholic that would burn just the right amount. 

The still painfully sober knight knew something was off the minute he laid eyes on Guinevere floating through the hallway. He could feel the fear begin to twist and roll in his gut. It took a lot to rattle that woman and at the moment she looked positively wrecked. Her face was awash in tears, her hair was askew and her dress uncharacteristically mussed. His fear grew teeth and claws, beginning to tear at his insides when she looked at him and promptly vomited. She had fallen to her knees upon seeing him. One hand was now braced against the wall and the other was cradling her stomach as she continued to heave onto the stones. He was next to her in an instant, pulling her hair from her face and rubbing soothing circles onto her back. When her body finally realized there was nothing left to expel, she pushed herself off the wall and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her finely stitched dress. She looked up and truly met Gwaine’s eyes for the first time since his arrival in the deserted corridor. In that moment Gwaine knew. He wasn’t sure how, but he just did. “Where is he?” he asked, desperation seeping into his voice. “Agravaine and Edmun caught him” she sobbed out, breath hitching. “He was…” she stopped, hiccupping slightly before digging her fingers into the fabric of Gwaine’s tunic, tugging desperately at the material. “He said he would get away, promised that he’d escape. Why didn’t he run Gwaine, why did he let it happen?” she begged.

Gwaine could feel a horrible understanding settling in. “He tried so hard not to scream. I think he tried for us.” Gwen’s grief was wreaking havoc on her emotions, batting her between mania and calm, pairing unquenchable misery with understated heartache on nearly the same breath. “But he couldn’t do it. He screamed until his voice broke and he couldn’t anymore”, a small sniffle here and the slight heaving of shoulders were the only indications of her agony. Gwaine felt his insides constrict into some vicious knot, the claws and teeth of before were joined by thorns and barbs. Evidently, he hadn’t known. He’d thought that perhaps his clumsiness had gotten the better of him or some low life scum had. Bruising, a concussion, some cuts and scrapes, maybe even a few broken bones. Trauma to be sure but nothing so severe that it left him without breath in his lungs. Certainly not something so horrific that it had snuffed his light from the world, from Gwaine’s world. He fell back from his crouch and into a seated position, splaying his legs along the cool stone. Gwen began to cry anew and Gwaine numbly drew her into his arms, soothing her hair with one hand. His other arm wrapped around and pulled the weeping woman flush against him so the side of her body was pressed into chest. Her cheek rested on his shoulder and her forehead was leant against his chin as he rocked the pair back and forth in the middle of the hallway. His anger would come later, swooping in on vicious wings. For now, he was empty, not fully able to comprehend the life that had been slowly burned away in the courtyard. 

Agravaine had made an error, one that would prove to be fatal. Arthur had known about Merlin’s magic for months, probably longer if the king was being honest with himself but he was a stubborn git on the best of days. The pair of them had been spending their evenings hunched over Arthur’s desk, bickering back and forth about the new laws and decrees. The laws that would allow magic back into Camelot. The laws that would prohibit burnings or executions for magical acts. The decree that would legalize magic and hopefully chase the haunted look from Merlin’s eyes once and for all. He could finally be safe in a place he had always hoped to call home. He could finally be accepted for everything he was and rewarded for everything he had done. Arthur intended to make those rewards quite large, titles and lands and resources to hone his gift. And if a room slightly closer to the King’s happened to be one of those rewards, well that was just a coincidence.


End file.
